


Dragon Tales

by TalkingGrape



Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: F/M, dragon billy, knight amelia, no beta we die like men, thats it, thats the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkingGrape/pseuds/TalkingGrape
Summary: Dragons are the free runners of medieval times.
Relationships: Five | Amelia/Four | Billy (6 Underground)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. 20 Questions

“Women can’t be knights, they say,” Amelia bites out the phrase, bitterness and spite fueling her aching muscles to go just  _ that much further _ . “Just stay at the apothecaries guild and continue your studies, they say,” Her nose wrinkles with disgust. 

She wasn’t even allowed to actually  _ help  _ people at the guild, she just sold wine and herbs while the men did all the business with doctors and gave pertinent medical advice. No one would trust the words of a  _ woman _ . She had to sneak books and tombs out at night to do real research, and no matter how much she kept herself busy with studying, her skin still itched with the need to actually do anything, to do  _ something. _

So, one night, she packed her bags and fled her home, making her way to the castle where she petitioned the king to let her become something more than what she already was, a fighter, a beast slayer, a  _ knight. _ Something about the title just felt…right. It felt like it was form fitted perfectly for her, like armor. Her soul was made of fire and steel, much like the sword the king had given her almost in jest, laughing at her back as she went off on a quest she knew was intended to kill her. 

But she will prove him wrong. She will prove everyone wrong. She will return to the king with the dragon’s head on a spike, and he will have no choice but to let her fight for him again. And so she continues on her perilous journey, scaling up steep cliffs miles away from her home to make it atop the mountains where the dragon lies in wait for another victim. 

The ascent takes a long, long time. The toll on Amelia’s body is incredible, she can hardly pull herself safely onto a ledge to catch her breath, fully exhausted from the climb. She still has some walking to do, but the hardest part of the climb is done and some part of her, a part that deep down still doubted her ability to do this crumbles. She feels just that much lighter, and it’s easier than she imagined it would be to stand up again and continue walking until she reaches the mouth of the dragon’s lair. 

The lair isn’t what she had been expecting, in all honesty. It’s small, almost modest in size. The mouth is only just taller than Amelia, and she can’t help but wonder if all the tall, brave knights before her lost their battles because they were too hunched over to draw their swords properly. Another little detail that she hadn’t been expecting is the door on the cave, she didn’t really think that dragons would have any use for privacy, especially on top of a mountain as steep and tall as this, but here she stands corrected. There are earthy tones of red, blue, and green painted around the door, random shapes and sizes forming an interesting, swirling pattern that stops with the door in the dead center. So, a dragon with a sense of interior (or exterior) design. Lovely. 

The sun begins to set, and Amelia retreats to make camp.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Amelia has a plan, although it’s not much of one considering her limited tools. Still, she has faith that she has more brains than a lot of the men who’ve come here before her, and she has to rely on that if she wants to survive. 

For the first day, she just sits as close as she dares and watches the mouth of the cave for… well for pretty much anything. A look at the dragon, any discernible movement patterns, even any signs of life at all. She gets absolutely nothing of note. 

And so on the second day, Amelia moves just a bit closer, circling around the cave a few times throughout the day in case there’s a back entrance or something that she’s missing. Nothing. 

On the night of the second day, Amelia figures that no man or beast can simply lie dormant for three whole days without seeing the sun, so she puts her plan into action. It’s simple, painfully so. As quietly as she can, she sets up a trap. She dismantles the too-big and daunting chainmail armor that had been supplied to her by the king, unlinking rows and rows of metal chain and reforming it into a useable net to capture a fire breathing monster. After that, all she does is set it up to fall on the beast outside the cave’s entrance, heavily weighting each side with rocks from the mountain to keep the creature at bay. 

Then she waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

The sun rises lazily, mist rising from the hills before burning away in the afternoon heat, and still the dragon doesn’t leave it’s home. After the sun comes the moon and still, the damned beast rests inside the cave. 

Amelia is a patient woman. Most people would disagree with this statement, but as someone who deals daily with being laughed at and pitied, she would say she has a fair amount of patience. But this? This is wearing her thin. She feels an unreasonable rage bubble up in her chest, a frustration that comes from years and years of being told she can’t. She can’t play rough like the boys, she can’t learn how to use a sword she has to learn to sew, she has to get married soon and no one wants a tomboy wife. For fuck’s sake, she’s not even allowed to learn the actual ways of her own goddamn trade, she just sells wine and nice smelling flowers to ladies with lazy eyes and bad breath. 

And this dragon? This absolute motherfucker? Has the audacity? To stand her up for his own execution? Not happening. He’s coming out one way or another. 

And so Amelia does the only thing she can think to get the beast’s attention. 

She screams. 

She lets out a loud, high pitched shriek that rattled the hills like the cry of a banshee. Some might say it sounds like fear, but to Amelia it feels like she’s letting this dragon know just how pissed she is, and just what the hell he’s in for. Her chest feels lighter than it has in ages, her throat feels raw, and her pulse is rushing through her. 

Not even halfway through, the door to the cave slams open, a blurry pale figure rushing forward and triggering Amelia’s trap. The metal net comes crashing down over the figure, easily pinning it to the ground. Amelia stares at the writhing figure beneath the glistening metal for a moment, half shocked it worked, and half waiting for it to fail anyways. 

A moment passes. Amelia takes a deep breath, draws her sword, and approaches the dragon. “I can’t believe that actually worked.” She raises her sword, aiming at what she thinks is the head, fully prepared to bring it down in one fell-

“Wait, you tricked me?” A deep, frantic voice sounds from under the net, the question punctuated with more forceful struggling.

Amelia pauses, her sword inches away from executing the being before her. Her face matches her feeling of total confusion. “You can talk?” 

“You’re a woman?” 

Well, now she’s a little more okay with stabbing this jackass. “Why do you sound so surprised? Who do you think was screaming?” 

“Someone who needed help.” 

Amelia leans back, resting a hand on her hip and raising an incredulous eyebrow. “Someone who needed help, huh? Because dragons are so helpful these days.” 

“Who said I was a dragon?” 

Why does it feel like, even though the dragon is the one in the net, he somehow has the upper hand in this conversation? “Well, you are, aren’t you?” 

“I mean. Kind of, yeah, but-”

“What does ‘kind of’ mean?” Amelia, as previously stated, is very patient, and she definitely feels as though she has been more than enough patient for this beast. Or man. Or whatever. She slowly raises her sword again. “You know what, never-mind, any last words?” 

“Can you at least tell me your name?” 

For an amorphous blob pinned to the ground, this monster is doing a very good job at throwing Amelia off her game. She, once again, puts her sword down. “It’s Amelia,” Then, after hesitating a moment, “What’s yours?” 

“‘S a beautiful name.” A beat of silence. “Mine’s Billy.” 

“Billy.” Amelia blinks down at the lump on the ground, incredulous. “You name is Billy?” And suddenly the stupidity of the situation hits her like a ton of bricks, and she can’t hold back a snort of laughter. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Billy asks, face fully obscured by the chain-mail net Amelia fashioned, although she can imagine that if he has the face of a human he must be blushing. If not, well…

“Do dragons blush?” Amelia sits down cross-legged beside the human-dragon lump on the ground, her sword still safely within her own reach but far from Billy’s. 

“Why don’t you lift this net and find out yourself?” 

“Why would I trust you?” Amelia reaches for her sword, weary at Billy- the  _ dragon’s  _ attempt to escape. 

“Because I’m the innocent one here and you’re the crazy lady that trapped me for no reason?” 

Rolling her eyes, Amelia drops her sword back to the ground, becoming more and more convinced that this dragon is actually some homeless guy that happens to own some kind of incendiary weapon. “I’m not just some crazy lady, I’m a  _ knight. _ Or. Going to be, at least. All I have to do is kill a dragon.” 

Billy groans, and Amelia is pretty sure he might also bang his head against the ground? It’s hard to tell. “Another one of the king’s stupid knights? Are you serious? What part of leave me alone doesn’t that bastard get?” 

“I’m sure he’d get the message if you actually left a knight or two alive to come back and deliver it.” 

There’s a pause of silence. “Shit, yeah, you got me on that one. To be fair, though, hard to let someone live if they’re trying to kill you.” 

Amelia shrugs, even though she knows Billy can’t see it. “We’re both alive right now, aren’t we?” 

“Damn, I guess you’re right. You’re actually the first knight, er, soon to be knight at least, to have a plan that didn’t involve kicking my door down and trying to stab me in the chest.” 

“Well, yeah, I was gonna go for the neck and head. Way more effective for killing than just the general chest area.” Amelia shrugs. “I’ve seen people survive stab wounds to the chest.” 

“You’re a very intimidating lady, did anyone ever tell you that?”

Amelia smiles as if she’s been given a compliment. Or maybe it was one. It certainly felt like one. “More than a few times.” 

“It fits you very well.” 

“How would you know, you can’t even see me.” Amelia glares down at the pile of metal and rock, wondering if Billy has some kind of weird dragon ability that allows him to see her through the metal mesh. 

He answers for her, “No, I can’t. But I would like to.” 

Five minutes ago? Amelia would’ve responded with stabbing the damn thing and walking away. Now, though? Now that the dragon is actually Billy the maybe only kind of dragon who just wants to be left alone and has been unfairly attacked by a lot of strangers for no good reason? Amelia might actually be considering it a little bit. “And why should I trust you?” 

“Aside from the fact that I never hurt humans unless it’s for self defence? A very large rock landed on my wing, so I’d be impaired in battle anyways.” Billy actually sounds a little nervous to be admitting the second fact, like he’s worried Amelia will take advantage of that knowledge and somehow, that brings her comfort. 

“But can’t dragons breathe fire?” Still, Amelia is nervous. No knight has ever returned from this mountain because of Billy. She’s not so stupid as to let herself fall for his tricks. 

“That sounds fucking painful, no. At least, I can’t do that. I can’t speak for anyone else. Never met a real dragon before.” 

“A real dragon? So what does that make you then?” 

Billy shifts under the net in a way that looks like a shrug. “I dunno. ‘M not scaly enough to be a real dragon. Don’t have a snout, can’t breathe fire, like I said, I’ve got hands. All things you could see if you let me out…?” His tone is half joking, half pleading. Like he doesn’t believe he’ll get out of this alive, yet at the same time he doesn’t see himself dying anytime soon. 

Glancing down at her sword, Amelia hesitates for a second. Could she really outmatch him if he tired something on her? Especially after climbing for so long? And rationing what little food she had for those three days, she’s really running low on energy. But Billy really does seem trustworthy somehow. Like he couldn’t tell a lie even if he wanted to. And his figure is actually pretty small under the net, Amelia had been expecting a lot more dragon bits to be sticking out from underneath, but everything is neatly covered by mesh and rock. 

The silence must stretch on for just a little longer than Billy is comfortable with, because he once again speaks up, his voice much smaller than it was last time. “Please? You don’t even have to let me out, just. Just walk away and I’ll figure something out eventually, just don’t kill me.” 

And that’s what does it for Amelia. The small, pathetic tone of Billy’s pleas worm their way into her bleeding heart and tear at it until she’s letting out a frustrated groan and standing up from her spot next to Billy’s trapped form on the ground. Sword clutched tightly in one hand, Amelia uses her free hand to start slowly shuffling boulders and rocks off of the net until it’s light enough that, suddenly, Billy’s struggles resume with a vengeance. 

Taking a step back from her now ruined trap, Amelia holds her sword with both hands in front of her, watching with sharp eyes as Billy crawls his way out of the net to stand before her. She takes in his rumpled appearance, his dirty white hair and beautiful white wings to match, although one is clearly injured with the way he’s holding it close to his body. He’s shirtless, obviously, there’s no shirt that would ever fit over the massive span of his wings, and Amelia catches herself staring at how toned his body is. 

Biting her lip, she brings her eyes back up to Billy’s face, and finds it harder yet to look away from. His lips are full and red, he obviously chews on them when he’s nervous (something that he’s doing now, actually), his bruised jawline is as sharp as the blade in Amelia’s hands, but what really gets her, is his  _ eyes. _ Those green eyes with flecks of gold and serpentine slits that widen animalistically in the darkness of the night. She can see how they could be seen as fierce, how those eyes could strike horror into any man, and most of all, how gorgeous they are. The way they catch just a glint of the moonlight- 

Billy takes a step closer, snapping Amelia out of her borderline revelry in his presence and making her tighten her grip on her blade. “So? You’re free now.”

Another step, Amelia points her sword towards Billy’s throat. “You’re beautiful.” 

He holds a hand out to her, and she’s not sure what to make of it. Surely he’s not expecting just one compliment to- to just fully  _ disarm _ her like some goddamn damsel. 

With another step, the tip of the sword is pressed to Billy’s throat, and Amelia wonders if he’s somehow getting off on the danger of this situation. If maybe he will kill her and he’s just toying with her first. Her hands are shaking, but her gaze stays on him, ice cold and unwavering. Time passes incredibly slow, seconds moving in reverse as a single bead of blood slips down Billy’s throat and Amelia follows it with her eyes, swallowing thickly. 

Another moment passes, and Amelia realizes that the hand held out to her is one of surrender, that the look in Billy’s eyes is almost pleading her not to move. He’s more afraid than she is, he’s giving her this power. She could so, so easily end all of this right here, right now. Just one more step. A single, confident step. 

She drops her sword. 


	2. Everything Happens So Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing that Amelia wanted to do gets done, and she's starting to realize that this is a recurring theme in her life.

The air is silent between them for a moment as Amelia wonders if she just made a mistake. But as she watches the pleading fear fade from Billy’s eyes and turn to hesitant relief, she feels her own heart lighten, and she knows she’s made the right choice. Still, she has to maintain something of her stony personality, she can’t let this man think he can just get her to do as he pleases. “Don’t think this means you’re out of hot water just yet, dragon.” 

Billy just rolls his eyes, clearly not intimidated by Amelia in the least. “I said I’m not a dragon.” 

“Then what are you?” Amelia feels a clear sense of deja vu, and she knows she’s asked this already, but she also knows she hasn’t had a clear answer yet. 

Still, Billy seems annoyed at the repeat question even though he’s never fully answered it to begin with. “I don’t know. Part dragon? Maybe some kind of hybrid mythical whatever? Whatever I am, I’m not human enough to be allowed near another human without the risk of execution.” 

And oh, that would explain the shortness. Amelia’s anger shrivels up in the shadow of pity and shame in herself for being so quick to judge. She would know better than anyone what it’s like to be put into a box for what she is. “Sorry.” 

“Not like it’s your fault.” 

And Billy looks so crestfallen and defeated that Amelia finds herself desperate to find a way to switch the topic to anything other than what he is. “I meant for breaking your wing. I don’t actually really give a damn what you are since we’ve already established I’m not killing you. Since you don’t know what you are, I’ll just have to call you by name. Sound good, Billy?” 

The way Billy’s face lights up goes straight to Amelia’s heart, not that she’ll ever admit it. “Yeah. Yeah, sounds good. And don’t worry about it. I’ve had to patch up worse than this before.” He gestures down at himself, clearly talking about the mass of angry scars that litter his torso and disappear into the waistband of his pants. Amelia can’t help but grimace at the sight, they don’t look like they got the attention that they needed to help them heal correctly, and it makes her sad to think of Billy on his own up here, risking death and infection all by his lonesome while Amelia was all but praying for some kind of plague in her village so that she could put her skills to use. White slashes dance all over his front and sides, and probably his back as well, all feeding into one large red scar that’s clearly the result of a nasty burn on Billy’s left side, stretching all the way from his ribs and vanishing below his waist. 

“Right. I actually have a pretty fair bit of training in the medical field if you wouldn’t mind letting me take a look at it?” Amelia doesn’t miss the way Billy holds his wing just a bit closer to himself, taking a small, nervous step back and away from her. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, believe me, I’m aware. But I’ve found and nursed my fair share of baby birds back to health so I’m pretty sure I’ve got the anatomy of the wing down to a science by now.” She doesn’t mention anything about dissecting the baby birds that didn’t quite survive while under her care. “I promise I’ll be gentle. No more dropping big rocks on you.” 

“And the sword?” Billy nods at the blade still lying by Amelia’s feet, still well within reach for her to pick up and use if she really wanted to. 

As someone who can appreciate the worth of a decent hunk of metal, Amelia doesn’t dare kick the finely sharpened blade away from her, she does, however, take five very large steps away from it while still maintaining her distance from Billy. She tries to ignore how exposed it makes her feel. “And what about it?” She asks, crossing her arms and turning her chin up with a smirk. 

Billy smirks to match her own and nods, gesturing for her to follow him. “Come on then, I don’t have all damn day.” 

And in that moment, something settles between them. Something solid and trusting that Amelia isn’t entirely sure should even be there, and yet it is. “I need to grab my supplies first. Don’t worry, I think I’ll know where to find you.” She winks at Billy as he quirks his head to the side before she turns and heads back to her camp, not bothering to wait for Billy’s response. Her sword lays abandoned on the ground, entirely forgotten. 

It doesn’t take long for Amelia to gather her what’s left of her supplies, packing them up and shouldering the bag so she can make her way back to Billy’s cave. She can see a warm light spilling out from the entrance and covering the grassy curves on the secluded mountain top. She can’t help but pause for a moment, drinking in the peaceful sight as a warm breeze brushes through her hair. She’d be lying if she said she isn’t a little jealous of Billy for getting to live in such a beautiful place. 

When Amelia finds Billy again, he’s waiting just inside the door of his home for her, gesturing for her to come in. “Don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.” 

“Very funny.” Amelia can’t help but roll her eyes, stepping past Billy and dropping her bag onto a small table in the center of the room before straightening up and glancing around the room, her jaw quite literally dropping as she breathes out a quiet ‘wow.’ 

The walls are covered with canvases of random sizes ranging from as tiny as a piece of cardstock to as large as Amelia herself, all of them arranged so that there’s not a single naked piece of the wall showing. Each canvas is painted in painstaking, dizzying, beautiful detail, some more graceful and elegant while others are passionate and streaked, like every painting is done by a different artist. Even the corners and floor is cluttered with canvases, some unfinished or even entirely blank, art supplies filling up every available surface of the small home Billy had carved for himself in the cave. Amelia even noted a few balls of yarn and some needles along with swaths of fabric bunched up in front of a makeshift couch where Billy probably spent a lot of his time. 

The thing that really caught Amelia’s attention, however, was an easel that was tucked away almost imperceptibly in a back corner, fresh paint still drying on the canvas displayed on it. The painting of a familiar figure scaling a cliffside. “That’s me.” She turns back around to face a very clearly embarrassed Billy. 

“Ah, yeah it is. I saw you climbing up the mountain and you were so… just. I dunno. Confusing?” Billy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, ducking down at Amelia’s unimpressed glare. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, promise. I just had never seen someone look so pissed off and beautiful at the same time, I guess.” 

“So let me get this straight.” Amelia steps over to the painting, admiring the careful strokes and painstaking detail as she talks. “You knew I was coming this whole time, and yet you still let me get the drop on you?” 

“I mean. I didn’t think you were coming up here to- you know.” 

“I had a sword with me? You painted it!” She points to the canvas to prove her point, turning back to a very flushed Billy. “You men are all the same. Just assuming that I’m the least threatening thing in the world because I come equipped with curves. That sword is still laying out there you know-”

“No it’s not.” Billy easily cuts her off and Amelia finds herself with a case of whiplash for a moment. 

“What?” 

Billy shrugs in response. “I figured you didn’t need it anymore so I dropped it off the cliff.” 

Amelia can feel her blood come to a rolling boil inside her veins almost instantly. “You dropped. My sword. Off a fucking cliff?” 

“That is what I said, yes.” 

And suddenly Amelia is seeing red. Without a second thought, she grabs the painting off the easel, sprinting out the door past Billy before he can process what’s happening. 

“Wait what’re you-” Billy chases after her, easily catching her when she comes to a stop at the edge of the cliff where she assumes her sword met a similar fate to what the dragon boy’s precious art work will soon meet. 

“I’m getting my revenge, you fucking asshole!” She tries to chuck the painting over the edge, but strong hands catch her wrists, easily stopping her. “Let go of me!” 

“No way in hell am I letting you waste three days of work like that. Drop it.” Billy’s voice rumbles in his chest, and Amelia would probably be blushing at the fact that she’s pressed flush against his bare chest if not for the fact that she’s royally pissed off right now. 

“I’m fucking trying to  _ drop it, _ ” She seethes out through her teeth before deciding fuck it, and biting down on Billy’s arm  _ hard _ . Hard enough to draw blood. 

The grip around her loosens and, okay, maybe she hadn’t fully thought this through, because whenever she jerks forward to pitch the painting over the edge, she goes with it. There’s a brief moment of nothingness, of weightlessness where she’s just floating, not quite realizing what’s happening. And then there’s strong arms around her waist, stopping her descent and knocking the air from her lungs and then she’s back on solid ground in a dizzying amount of time and  _ that’s  _ when the panic sets in. 

“I just jumped off a fucking cliff oh my god.” Billy is by her side in an instant, face full of concern that definitely shouldn’t be there considering the relationship they have with each other. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, followed by a protective wing and Amelia turns to his side, the whole situation having her in a total state of shock. She can’t breathe right now let alone do something as complicated as think, so she does the first thing that comes to mind, which is punch Billy. Hard. Dead center of the chest. “I just jumped off a cliff and it’s all your fucking fault you goddam  _ idiot. _ ” 

Once again, Billy easily catches her wrist before she can continue to beat her fist against him, his grip tight enough to bruise. “What the fuck do you mean it’s my fucking fault?” 

“You threw away my sword!” Amelia thrashes in Billy’s grip, suddenly wanting to be very far away from him. 

Despite her struggles not doing much against his strong grip, Billy releases his hold on her anyways and Amelia scuttles back and away from him as he stands up and paces angrily before her. “Oh fucking  _ sorry  _ for doing everything in my power to prevent being hurt again.” He shoots a bitter glare over at her and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make some of the rage inside her shrivel up and turn to empathy. 

Still, she stands up, unafraid. “What if I need it?” 

Billy turns to face her, looking almost betrayed. “For what? You still don’t trust me?” 

And Amelia is so damn frustrated at this point that she wants to hit Billy again. “Do you really think you’re the biggest, scariest thing out here?” 

“No! But you should trust me to protect you at this point! Especially after all this.” He gestures around himself like it explains everything, and Amelia actually does hit him this time while his hands are too occupied to protect himself. She lands a solid punch to the center of his face, swelling with pride and something fierce in the way she feels the cartilage in his nose crack. 

“I am not some weak thing that needs to be protected.” It’s the calmest, most put together statement she’s uttered since she entered Billy’s home, and it has the other pausing in the middle of his string of curses as he tries to stem the flow of blood from his nose. 

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Billy’s voice is watery, thick with tears from his recently broken nose and Amelia feels a pitch of guilt before suddenly all of the anger in her deflates. 

Her hand hurts. “Yeah. Just a little bit. And stop pinching that shut come here.” She puts a gentle hand on Billy’s shoulder, holding back a grimace when the boy flinches at the contact. “Let’s get you fixed up.”


End file.
